


our love is god; kwj & hhj.

by arrowthroughtheheart



Series: we're making history. [3]
Category: Heathers (1988), Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, Movie Reference, Musical References, Yeay, and psychopathic tendencies are a much better descriptive writing, because i suck as an author, but like not explained tho, lowkey, maybe this is a bit out of the ordinary but chan is mean, whOOPs they're all hurting, woojin aint normal either but i kinda feel bad for him now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 10:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowthroughtheheart/pseuds/arrowthroughtheheart
Summary: "Don't be a dick.That would kill him."





	our love is god; kwj & hhj.

**Author's Note:**

> ngl i feel like this is kind of a big responsibility but eh. i do receive constructive criticism, though, and even hate! jk i'll cry but yk what just drop them comments, friends, i am : lonely:).
> 
> ps. i absolutely do not encourage the kind of relationship any of these kids have in the fic oR the movie and musical, and if you're going through it, i hope and pray for you to find your peace okay?
> 
> *this is the story in the series that will be referenced to a lot uwu. but also read from part 1 for the rest of the ref*

THERE’s a piece of crumpled paper, tossed all the way to the corner of one room - almost abandoned.

   Almost, is the keyword, and before the said pile of sadness rests long enough on the cold, dusty ground; someone picked it up. Their long, dainty fingers met the softly rough surface of a two-dimensional being pulled together into one, tiny ball, and a chuckle erupted through their parted lips when they flattened the paper out.

_ “That works for me.” _

 

*

 

   Hyunjin shakes the dust off his hair, trying his best to hold in the grumble in his stomach from not eating for almost. . . the whole day. He’s really exhausted, and nothing could make him want to die more than - this. Whatever this is he’s currently doing, even though he looks like a fool doing it, he still  _ does  _ it. Without question, and with unwavering loyalty.

   Standing upon the cold ice, he’s shivering with what he also knew as - fear. 

   “Hyunjin!” 

   The sound wasn’t familiar, comforting, or friendly to say the least. It was just that; a cry that signs the fact that he was summoned. In a hurry, Hyunjin scurries up from his seating position, took no time to straighten his feet that were folded the whole time from sitting down a few benches away from the hockey field spread in front of him to hurdle himself in it, eyes running here and there in search for the owner of the voice.

   In the far left of the almost translucent but white field, he stands in all his mighty, pride, and arrogance. His skin almost as flawless as the beautiful morning rays of light, and his posture shows how he won’t hesitate on kicking you on the nose if you go as far as to  _ look  _ at him the wrong way. He didn’t call for Hyunjin. No, it wasn’t  _ Han Jisung _ .

   So Hyunjin looks at the one standing at the goal, hands resting on his hip with tired written all over his face, and even in this kind of situation he still manages to look slightly dominating - to Hyunjin, of course - with his eyebrows narrowed into the middle of his forehead and his lips spread into a thin line. He wasn’t opening his mouth, so, no. It’s not  _ Seo Changbin  _ either.

   Shit.

   It left Hyunjin no choice, no one else other than. . .  _ Him.  _ The mythic bitch. 

   He’s glowing, simply said - and he looks right into Hyunjin’s eyes as if he’s ready to devour the taller boy if he declines whatever favour is waiting for him right then and there. He has his helmet on the ground - ice? - beside him, and his head is slightly bent to the side. It’s his weird way of asserting dominance, Hyunjin guesses,  _ or maybe he’s just really proud of his jawline. _

   “Yeah, Chan?”

_ Bang Chan _ , the almighty. There’s no one else like him, and no one stood up against him, ever. Hyunjin just had the privilege to stand with him - and he’s drowning in it with no intentions of rising to the surface. Ever.

   “Throw us the towels!”

 

   No one moves a muscle when Chan slammed the door open, a millisecond before the bell rang out loud right above their heads, and Hyunjin visibly flinches - earning a soft chuckle from Changbin, who is resting his chin on Hyunjin’s shoulder slightly. “Yes! Lunch!” Jisung skips away a little bit too cheerfully, his light hair draping over the front of his closed eyelids, and for a second Hyunjin can feel Changbin tensing up beside him but decided to let it go.

   “Please, Jisung. No one is that excited for lunch,” Chan sighs, running a hand through his perfectly blonde hair, still careful to not mess up his look that much but still going for that careless vibe he would definitely get - since, Hyunjin noticed - there’s a wide opening in front of them already, as if the sea of humans just decided to make way for the three kings and. . . and himself, nowadays.

   These days, Hyunjin has been a  _ lot  _ better at trying to ignore all the foolishly evil things the three of them - or, as the crowd calls them; 3Racha and Hyunjin - does on a daily basis, which ranges from being just subtly mean to a full out crime that would make someone drop dead in jail in a heartbeat. But it doesn’t mean he’s doing it right now.

   “Hyunjin, I’m going to need you to write a note,” Chan smiles up at him, and in the corner of his eye, Hyunjin can see how some panties literally dropped. How nice. He only hums in return, already feeling how unfair this is going to be for the victim but, but, but? He stays shut. He drowns in the privilege of standing  _ with  _ 3Racha, anyways, what more is there to lose?

   “It’s for Minho!” Chan exclaims, albeit too frustratingly cheerful in this kind of situation. Hyunjin’s stomach churns at the simple tone of his voice and the dimple that he shows while smiling. Attractive, dangerous,  _ stay away _ , Hyunjin’s mind reminds him, but the last time he listened to his mind he ended up laughed at in the hallway for standing up for his best friend. “Minho?” Hyunjin tests the waters once again, and at Chan’s enthusiastic nod and slight glare across the cafeteria, he let out a sigh he’s been holding this entire time.

   “Shit, Chan. I don’t have anything against Minho!” he almost flops down onto the seat beside the blonde, but before he can do exactly that, Chan rose to his feet to catch his arm in a convincing death grip. “You don’t have anything  _ for  _ him either. Besides, this one note is going to give him more good than bad,” he smiles again, and Hyunjin finds himself despising the other’s smile more and more as the day progresses. “Yeah? Why is that?”

   Chan snorts, which in return made both Jisung and Changbin laugh with him - only for a little bit before they got shut down by Chan’s own judgemental raise of an eyebrow.

   “I don’t know, Hyunjin. Maybe it could help him get off, at least - for a week?” and then their laughter broke again, this time it wasn’t even timed or led by Chan, since, for 3Racha’s sick and twisted humour, this  _ is  _ funny. Hyunjin can’t help wondering what the hell is funny about it, though. “Oh come on. If you don’t want to fly with eagles, you  _ can  _ end up like him,” Chan patronizes, lifting his chin to show Hyunjin where Lee Minho sits; alone and sad.

   For a split second, Hyunjin thought it might be better that way.

   “ _ Fine _ ,” is what came out of his mouth instead, and he swore to himself he’d see the day where he could punch the living hell out of 3Racha’s satisfied faces at his response. “What should I write, anyway?”

   “Aw, don’t start pouting like that,” Chan swings his foot to stand with Hyunjin, excited and ready to put someone down. “Hyunjin needs something to write on, though. Hm. Changbin,” he flicks the shorter’s forehead. “ _ Bend over _ .”

   As Jisung laughs at the ambiguous meaning behind Chan’s words and Hyunjin’s professional catfishing fingers starts to write down as if he’s Lee Felix - also known as the love of Minho’s life, and also, 1 out of 2 from the dumb football player duo with this other kid, Yang Jeongin - Hyunjin’s eyes caught sight of the most beautiful being he’s ever seen in his life, and he had to take a double take to make sure he’s not making any of this up from the lack of sleep and the hatred that is bubbling up in his lungs.

   Over there, at the very corner of the cafeteria, dressed almost in all black and a long robe reaching his ankles - a new kid.

   Simply put, that’s what he is. But to Hyunjin? 

   He felt like this kid is what he would see when the gates of heaven open up for him, even though Hyunjin is sure that would never happen, seeing that he hangs out with the most sinful gang anyone has ever laid their eyes on. And he knows better than to look away when said kid looks at him.

   Hyunjin took all that is in him to just breath and pretend that everything is okay, trying to throw the new kid a shaky smile as the paper he finished writing on got snatched away by Chan - hissing at how perfect his handwriting is before leaving a peck on Hyunjin’s cheeks - and got handed down to Jisung, who in return rushes over to Minho to put the note on his tray; all this while Hyunjin notices the slight discomfort on the kid’s face when he sees the exchange happening behind Hyunjin.

   “Now, we wait for the magic to happen,” Jisung says - and dear god, if for once Jisung doesn’t speak with the giddiness that is always apparent in his voice, Hyunjin would be kneeling on the floor in front of the gigantic Jesus statue his local church has. But no, that will never happen.

   They stood there, they observe. They don’t even try to hide their loud giggles when Minho’s eyes lit up as he went over to Felix and Jeongin’s table, hope evident in his tone and face.  _ No, no, he’s not actually foolish enough to trust that Felix has been. . . thinking about him? _

   The collective laughter laced with nothing but mockery comes in waves through every table in the cafeteria as Hyunjin blacked out for a moment, blocking out all the slurs they would be calling Minho as he runs away, unable to look back at the sight of Felix laughing at him and Jeongin mocking his stuttered confession out loud, again and again.  _ What a bunch of dicks _ , Hyunjin rolls his eyes, once again meeting the intrigued look the new kid on the corner has in his eyes.

   “For fuck’s sake, Hyunjin, stop drooling,” Changbin nudges his side a little bit too hard and it made Hyunjin want to bend down and cry over the pain on his rib - but he has a reputation to keep, and it disgusts him. “He was drooling? Over what?” Jisung lifts Hyunjin’s chin up to face him, face scrunching from the non-apparent drool he’s looking for. “That new  _ boy _ over there,” Chan supplies, and the realization that their so-called leader notices what he’s been interested in sent panic through Hyunjin’s veins, and he fidgeted around to avoid Chan’s piercing glare.

   “We’re leaving,” Chan states, throwing one last dominating look towards the new kid’s direction before he shoves a table away harshly, not even having to look back to know how Hyunjin is tailing behind him, too afraid to look back at the new kid that has his eyes fixed on Hyunjin’s tall back.

   “Hey,” Jeongin kicks the chair in front of the new kid’s table. “Why was Hwang Hyunjin paying extra attention to you, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are?” Felix chuckles, feeling a smirk creeping up on his skin and the passion to punch this newly birthed baby that is taking way too much of everyone’s attention for his liking.

   The boy in front of them stayed quiet, eyes bored, drilling holes into their shoulders instead. “He asked you a  _ question _ , and you’re obliged to answer, asshole,” Jeongin starts again, laughing as he digs his left foot on the boy’s knees, and this lit up a whole new fire in said boy’s eyes. 

   “Kim Woojin,” he answers finally, noticing how the tense shoulders of Felix and Jeongin calmed down a little bit when they decided that he’s bending down to their will. “And. . . my other friend down here,” Woojin reaches inside his pocket, eyebrows narrowing slightly while he calculates on where to aim.

   A gun.

   He pulls out a gun from his very own robe’s pocket, and he aimed it above the two jocks’ heads while it hits the railing and, in return, the lights that are dangling from the now holed roof.

 

   Hyunjin is restless.

   Sure, he’s been to parties before with 3Racha and their very known tricks of partying, but nothing ever. . . like this one. The one he  _ was  _ experiencing, the one that - as Chan said - would help him get into the university of his choice, but it all got flipped upside down when a guy from said college groped his ass and decided that it would be a great decision to grind down on him, breath musky from all the alcohol and shirt slightly disheveled.

   Hyunjin almost saw  _ red _ , and he almost snapped said guy’s neck from exhaustion and panic before he managed to run outside, threw up on Chan’s shoes, and shoved him away.

   He’s fucked.

   “Hwang Hyunjin, if you don’t fucking  _ stop,  _ I will obliterate you,” came Chan’s calmly dangerous voice. He’s always like that. Calm, dominating, and very, very, very. . . insensitive. Yet, time and time again, Hyunjin always bows down to his will to just please the almighty mythic bitch. But not this time. Not this  _ fucking  _ time he won’t.

   “I got you into something you would’ve never even  _ heard  _ if it isn’t because of me. And this is how you repay me? You embarrassed me, shoved me out of the way and then threw up on my shoes?”

   Chan got so close this time, too close for Hyunjin’s liking - and even though the other is shorter, somehow every time they look eye to eye, Hyunjin always finds himself cowering away. But tonight, he’s filled to the brink with buzz and the will to not be raped in the middle of the night, and he snaps.

   “Lick it up, baby.  _ Lick. It. Up _ .”

   Chan almost looks. . . impressed. But then again, nobody would want him to step down from being the King who knows no mercy even among the two other Kings in their batch of angsty high-schoolers, so he chuckles in amusement instead. 

   “8 AM, Hwang. Tomorrow morning. You’d be nothing but a memory that would  entertain us sometimes - if your ghost ass self is lucky, up there - and nothing more than a joke that everyone would mock and love to hate,” Chan lifts the corner of his mouth up into a smirk, taking one last look at Hyunjin from the top of his head to the points of his toes. “ _ Shame _ ,” he whispers, mostly to himself. “Could’ve really found you a better use if you stuck around long enough.”

   So Hyunjin walks home, shivering from the top to the bottom where his skin crawls in fear and anticipation of what’s to come - not really a big fan of cliffhangers and what Chan said about him. He knows, better than anyone, that tomorrow morning, he’ll be doing anything in his power to make life not a living hell anymore - as far as to climb into Bang Chan’s bed itself to beg.  _ Literally _ , and however other way he enjoys it, apparently, and Hyunjin would do it.

   But tonight, the tall young man tells himself that he can be as disgusted as he can about this entire ordeal, how he’s going to beg for another chance, and himself - in general.

   There’s no better way to be gloomy about it and not wreck his entire room into flames, so Hyunjin found peace in writing about everything he feels, everything he wants to do, and everything else in between. “God, please,” the writing would sound if it can actually talk, “Please, please, just for once listen to my prayers without me having to kneel in front of your statue for hours. Please, just. . . I know this isn’t in your line of work, but can you please, please,  _ please  _ kill Bang Chan?”

   It was powerful, and Hyunjin felt empowered by just pouring his whole heart on a media that won’t judge.

   He felt even more powerful when he rips the page off completely, crumpling them into a ball to throw them out of the window that he left slightly opened just because he’s unable to breath with the heater on and his own frustration biting off bits and pieces of his brain cells.

   And as if summoned, someone pops his head into the window.

   “Um, hello?”

   Hyunjin responds with an ear-deafening shriek, his hand immediately reaching for the scissor he put right beside him just in case, before he notices who it was and stopped his screeching entirely. A few bumps outside tells Hyunjin that his parents are on their way to his room, and it made him rush over to the window as quick as he can.

   “You! You’re the new kid at school! I was looking at you yesterday, a lot. Why- nevermind, just. . . be quiet, if you don’t want to die, okay?”

   In Hyunjin’s mind right now, there’s about fifty-five different scenarios on how he would be killed by this new kid that - as he heard - fired a gun in their cafeteria after being confronted, and was looking at him throughout the whole Minho fiasco, but then again, what would he tell his mom if he does die because of this new kid?

   So he does what he planned to do, which is closing his gigantic curtains over new kid’s face and puts on his best, dramatic Hyunjin face.

   “Damn,” a voice behind him chuckles, and Hyunjin locks the door a little bit too quickly when he finds out that the kid that was hanging on his window is now inside, and is now brushing off the dust that was stuck on his black attire. He has a charming smile, but  _ still _ . He’s in Hyunjin’s house. From the window. How does he even know Hyunjin’s house?

   “I’m a pretty big cockroach, eh?”

   When Hyunjin eyes him up and down nervously, that’s when the boy decides to bow politely, the attractive smile still evident on his face. “Sorry for showing up so suddenly in your house, but I saw you threw this,” he lifts up his right hand to show Hyunjin his - what was once crumpled paper, but now flattened out so that it’s slightly readable. Hyunjin almost threw a fit to try and get it back, but he realizes that it’s no use and that he would die tomorrow, so he stood still on his place.

   “Yeah, I saw you threw this outside and I was. . . looking for reasons to just speak with you. Great,” the other trails off, slightly sucking in a breath masked as a laugh. “My name’s Kim Woojin, and I read about how much you want to. . .  _ kill  _ Bang Chan?” Woojin frowns playfully, and the gesture made Hyunjin relax even if it’s just a tiny bit. “Hm,” Hyunjin hums, unable to stop his eyes from wrinkling into crescent moon-like shapes when he smiles up at Woojin, trying to be nice. 

   “I don’t. . . really like my friends,” he continues, and this grabbed the attention of Woojin as he pulls a chair for himself. “It’s like, we’re colleagues and our job is to be popular and shit,” Hyunjin sighs, running a hand through his hair to stop the headache knocking loudly on his door - and that’s when he realizes how drunk he is beyond repair by now. “Well, I don’t like your friends, too,” Woojin replies.

   Too much, too close, too heavy.

   Hyunjin thinks that he should be traumatized by now when people lean this close into his personal space since he just experienced  _ the  _ Bang Chan daunting him at a very closed space just a few moments ago, but then again, this guy is not Chan. This guy isn’t popular, or liked, or looked up to, or too cocky for his own good. This guy is. . . woah. Way too close to him, and he’s. . . he’s so  _ warm _ .

   “Mmm,” Hyunjin is half-way into moaning out loud at the warmth that is enveloping him. Wait, so he’s hugging him? What’s his name again- Woojin? Is he straddling Woojin right now, oh my god, what is going on?

   “We have  _ so  _ much in common,” came instead from Hyunjin’s slightly parted lips, a bit slurred and prolonged when he rushes out the first few words and got stuck in saying ‘so’. “And you know what people do when they have things in common, Woojin?” he says again, inwardly cursing himself for picking up  _ very  _ nicely on how to be a literal slut; taught by none other than Han Jisung himself. Maybe Woojin hummed, but maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it’s just a buzz of excitement in Hyunjin’s own blood to get some action after a long time, but then again, he brought this upon himself.

   “They fuck.”

   Now, Hyunjin can hear it as loud as the day. Woojin is laughing. Laughing as if it’s a funny joke, though, not as if Hyunjin’s too lame to function kind of laugh. Hyunjin then decided that he loves the sound of Woojin’s laugh. “No, Hyunjin, no one does that at their first meeting. You’re drunk, let me put you to sleep.”

   “What are you, living in the 70s?” Hyunjin chuckles when Woojin wraps an arm around the back of his neck and his hips, letting out little guttural groans when he’s put down on his own, warm bed. No. Not as warm as Woojin.

   And he finds himself pouting. “What are you saying, huh?”

   Woojin glances down at him, slightly concerned and slightly confused. “I’m sorry, doll, I can’t understand what you said,” he leans down again, now visibly kneeling on the floor since his perfect face is facing Hyunjin’s, and Hyunjin can see his little fangs when he smiles down at him. The fucking nickname got Hyunjin weak, if he’s not already weak enough from just looking at Woojin.

   “So you wouldn’t fuck me?” Hyunjin goes back to the topic, eyebrows raised in curiosity and the bottom of his lips jutting out in protest. “I didn’t say that, doll,” Woojin replies, tapping Hyunjin’s puffed cheeks with his thumb. “Not with you half-conscious, though,” the other winks before he leans down to ruffle Hyunjin’s hair. “Where’s the fun in that?”

   It took Hyunjin awhile to understand that he might get more than he bargained for when he started letting his dirty thoughts resurface when he sees Woojin  _ inside  _ his room, but then again, he’s way too far gone at the time. No, not from the alcohol and definitely not from the thought of getting fucked out of his mind.

   He’s a dead man walking, and he’s sure as hell going to spend his 30 hours wisely.

   “Wait, Woojin, actually!”

 

*

 

   Hyunjin’s back aches from the friction burn he’d spent his whole night with, and with all the luck and need he has to not fail highschool without being around the solid teflons to survive highschool’s very famous wrath, he got up. Beside him, a fully awake Woojin is looking at his every move, and this made him feel slightly giddy inside.

   Fuck, is he turning into Jisung completely?

   “I was about to wake you up and be all romantic,” Woojin complains, tracing patterns on the side that is exposed to him. “But I guess that’s not going to happen today.”

   The mention of the word ‘today’ made Hyunjin even more happy, but he tries to shove it down and not show the other any type of emotional connection yet, since, he’s used to know people who does exactly what he wishes they would do before it turns out that they’re just doing it for an even bigger price and that they treasure him none.

   But he took the chance, either way.

   “Mmhm, maybe next time.”

   And when all he got from Woojin was a kiss on top of his forehead with the sweetest smile he’s ever seen, Hyunjin feels that he was ready to face the wrath of Bang Chan and his over-possessive ass over things he found and deemed ‘fixed’ after they get a chance to be with him or just, around him. And Hyunjin never knew which category he belongs to.

   “I need to apologize. He’s going to kill me,” and with that, Hyunjin took off to the kitchen, Woojin following suit with his oversized shirt and sleep in his eyes. “What’re you making him, hm?” he asks, looking at the cupboard below what Hyunjin just touched. Hyunjin’s hum that follows morphed from the fleeting thought of doing something horrible to questioning what Woojin is holding, but he answers the other nonetheless. “You know. . . Something. That would make her throw up her whole meal, preferably. But I don’t know how well it would work, though,” he managed a snort before backpedalling really quick since he’s growing  _ way  _ to similar to how Chan would act in these kinds of situations. 

   Woojin turns around on his heels to find a Hyunjin zoning out into the distance, a cup of milk and orange juice mixed together in hand and an unreadable expression in his eyes as he notices what Woojin is holding. From the cupboard he just scavenged through, Woojin managed to find a bottle filled with blue toilet-cleaner liquid, and the slight evil smile decorating the corner of his lips is enough to drive Hyunjin into a conclusion he didn’t want to say out loud. “Don’t be a dick,” Hyunjin chuckles, thinking about how obvious of a joke this is. A mean one. “That would kill him. Besides, he won’t ever drink anything that looks like that.”

   A simple tilt on Woojin’s head signals the fact that he gave up, even though with slight discomfort - which Hyunjin finds intriguing - but not without a fight. “He would if we rile him up enough for all his pride and arrogance to get in the way and would make him unable to think straight before he takes any logical action,” he says. “I thought you  _ wanted _ to kill him?”

   This made Hyunjin’s fingers shake with unease, and he calmly puts his cup down beside where Woojin is standing. “I- I mean,” he begins, looking at how the other already has that same smile back on his face, and for a second it soothed his nerves. 

   When Woojin leans in to begin another kiss with a soft, short peck on Hyunjin’s lips, and there’s a wave of assurance that made the taller quits fidgeting around nervously, and for a second Hyunjin forgets that he has a big storm coming.

   “Hyunjin!”

   “Yeah, what?”

   Woojin looks down at the cup left on the kitchen counter, the pale and soft colour of milk peeking through the closed lid, and then he looks up at the one between Hyunjin’s tight grasp. “No, nothing. Go ahead.”

 

   Chan is seated in the middle of his gigantic bed in his even more gigantic room, eyes flickering up lazily when he hears a knock on his door and the two people he’d expect to see least walk in through his door even before he had the opportunity to answer. His pyjamas is still slightly disheveled, and it reveals his pale front - and it made Hyunjin think of milk. How ironic. 

   “How nice,” the owner of the room says, voice croaked with the touch of sleep, and as he struggles to keep his eyes opened. “Little Hwang Hyunjin returns!” he mockingly does a victorious cheer, before he leans onto his side to take a better look at who is beside Hyunjin. “Hm. And who is  _ this _ ? Decided to bring me a gift, I see?”

   Hyunjin - someone who bends under the pressure of this boy, someone who would never dare to say no to a being who holds that many power, someone who would rather flee his country than to bring someone like Chan any harm - is now smiling, laced with the spark of red that he saw a split second ago. “Actually, yes. We did bring you a gift.”

   Woojin steps forward, the lidded cup in his hand. 

   Automatically - Hyunjin should’ve known since he can’t fight an evil brain with an evil brain - Chan scrunches his nose up, already questioning whatever the fuck is in that cup and is on a fight-or-flight response to what he shall drink. “What is that?” came out of his mouth instead, and Woojin raises an eyebrow in response. “You have to drink to find out,” he says, and Hyunjin is currently watching this exchange with his eyebrows narrowed and his lungs squeezing to a shut. He can’t, he can’t breath.

   “Ha,” Chan threw Woojin a smile. “I’m not going to be defeated by that trick, old man,” he instead flips his whole leg out of the bed to walk away from both Hyunjin and Woojin and chose to sit in front of the tiny table made out of glass in the middle of his room instead. He still had his eyes on both of the new guesses that arrived in his room, but he’s more focused on striking the match. “Well, okay,” Woojin shrugs, “guess you’re not always the almighty Bang Chan beneath all those undefeatable personality afterall.”

_ Foolish _ , Hyunjin thinks to himself when he and Woojin exchanged a glance. How foolish is Chan and his gang actually that this meaningless, short speech could rile him up in a way that is self-destructing? 

   This is the time when he realizes how much a simple personality trait - yes, Hyunjin thinks popularity is a personality trait for 3Racha - can change someone’s whole perspective. Chan is not dumb, stupid or slow in any type of way. He’s just way too caught up in the way people kneel for him everytime he passes by, laid down their coats for him to step on, and all their meaningless praises that he never indulges himself in, either way. And all of that led him to  _ this _ . This is the big storm that Hyunjin forgot to remember.

   “If drinking whatever it is in the cup proves a point for you, I’m going to do it. Let me count it as charity work, okay?” Chan manages to just grit his teeth in annoyance and puts on his billion dollars smile back on, all the while strutting over to Woojin to snatch the cup away from his hand, not giving second thoughts before he downed the whole liquid inside the cup, looking straight into Hyunjin’s eyes in the process.

   Hyunjin holds himself from bursting into laughter when he sees the weird way Chan’s face is contorting and he praised himself for making that milk and orange juice concoction. There’s no way in hell Chan would escape the liquid’s fiery rage in his intestines, and he’d be sick enough for the whole day to forget what Hyunjin does wrong.  _ Or remember very vividly and kills him on the spot, which is okay too. _

   But Hyunjin’s slightly grinning face morphed into that of a panic when he sees Chan coughing, blue droplets of  _ something  _ dripping out from the corners of his lips. He knows exactly what it is, and although his face changes into something else, apparently there’s a little man in Hyunjin’s silent heart that is cheering for whatever it is happening to Chan. How twisted is he, really.

   While the man in front of them gapes for air, leaning down on his knees to get a better grasp on the table in front of him while the chemical reaction in a form of toilet cleaner goes down his throat and lungs like they would go down into the drain, Hyunjin stifles a laughter. There’s just something so god damn amusing about how someone who was once so untouchable and filled with force and authority on his knees, unable to breath and is destroyed from the inside by something  _ he  _ did. The power,  _ oh _ , the unimaginable power Hyunjin would feel from doing this. Not only to Chan, maybe- maybe even to his friends, to both Jisung and Changbin, too. To his past flings that would make fun of Hyunjin secretly with Chan under their muffled breaths, to anyone that’s been in Chan’s pathetic excuse of a life.

   To himself.

   So, as said boy decided that his last words would count and he turns around to look up at Hyunjin with nothing but despair in his eyes, Hyunjin snorts out loud, then turning into a satisfied laughter. He lifts his right foot to shove Chan away onto the table, breaking it in time with Chan’s final gasp for air - and then there’s that. He was done.

   Hyunjin finds himself quieting down, observing how Woojin reacts beside him, but noticing how calm and collected the other is beside himself and decided that the two of them maybe as bad as each other.

   “I. . . I just killed my best friend,” Hyunjin sighs, leaning down to check on Chan’s still, opened eyes. He got goosebumps from looking at him that way, but not the bad kind. Oh, definitely not the bad kind. 

   “And your worst enemy.”

   “Same difference,” Hyunjin pulls a chair over to him, doing all he can to not freak out like he’s a seven-year-old girl who finds out about his own birthday surprise. How kinds of messed up he is, Woojin doesn’t need to know yet. He doesn’t need to know the adrenaline coursing through Hyunjin’s veins now, instead of fear, and he doesn’t need to know how excited he is to begin making other people suffer the same way Chan does - how he wants to see more heads roll, and maybe torture them while he’s at it. But then again, Woojin was the one who filled the cup with that blue liquid, so is he allowed to judge?

   “We’ll make it as if it’s a suicide,” Woojin says out loud, trying his best to calm Hyunjin down. Little does he know, Hyunjin needs to calm down for other reasons.

 

   The chance presents itself faster than necessary, but it doesn’t mean Hyunjin won’t take it. It turns out that Woojin is on a roll, wanting everyone who looks at Hyunjin the wrong way to die without any other chances presenting itself for them again to live. All in all, when it comes to the worst, Hyunjin knows Woojin would throw himself in front of whatever danger would pose a threat for Hyunjin. And that is what matters.

   They lured both Felix and Jeongin into the forests with the promise of. . . Hyunjin.

   It wasn’t that hard to do, since, Hyunjin has never been suspected over anything that has more harm than just letting his tray of food fall in the middle of the cafeteria on a crowded Monday morning, and the two dumb jocks are pretty much head over heels for anyone popular, so be it. 

   So when the time comes and Felix was shot down, Hyunjin is almost too far gone. Gone far enough, actually, until he missed the shot on Jeongin’s perfectly still face. Now that the latter is gone, running for his life away from both himself and Woojin, Hyunjin can’t help the smirk that is etched into his skin. “You missed him completely!” Woojin protests, and at that time is when Hyunjin is reminded to put on his scared mask over his face again, and he flinches visibly. “No, no, it’s okay. We’re just scaring him off, right?” Hyunjin manages a laugh, pretending to still not understand that they’re using real bullets instead of -  _ lies.  _ He can hear Woojin growls in frustration, but he’s in way too much happiness to see Felix under his feet, still half awake and wincing in pain.

   “Okay, okay, just- stay here, okay?”

   “Okay,” Hyunjin whispers silently as an answer, eyes looking down to focus on Felix instead. The one on the ground, bullet pierced right through his neck is looking up at him, choking from his own blood that is now overflowing, and he tries to mutter something out - which only results in more pain for him and his eyes went wild trying to stop his own shrieks. 

   “Hm?” Hyunjin tilts his head, “having fun, little boy?” he smiles down at Felix. “I guess. . . this is what you get for having nothing else to offer to the world, yeah?”

   And at the time, Hyunjin can hear Woojin’s voice calling for him, and without any sort of hesitation this time, he aims forward and shoot his shot - right when Jeongin decided it would be nice for him to run straight towards Hyunjin. 

   Two kills.

   The buzzing in his nerves are incomparable to that time where he sees Chan hopelessly gape for air in front of him or when he crushed the skull of the man who groped him at that party. This, this. . . this is just, new.

   Hyunjin fears that in his life he would never get any more satisfaction close enough to this one, but for the time being he waved it all off. He still has Woojin, that guy would bring anyone he’s interested in killing to the table. That’s why they love each other, right?

_ Wrong. _

   Love, he said. Love is a funny word, one that doesn’t really pop up in Hyunjin’s dictionary so often. Except for that one time where he deceived himself about loving Woojin, the psychopath who he just so suddenly meet out of nowhere and showed him the thrill of hunting people down and killing them - only to be disappointed not even a few months later.

   Hyunjin; being the pretentious prick that he is, kept up his good-boy-dragged-into-a-mass-killing-spree mask long enough that he decided it would be better for him to stop frolicking with the enemy - in this case, Woojin - even though Hyunjin  _ was  _ secretly the one who lit up the crackling fire of murder, knowing exactly how Woojin would trade his life for Hyunjin’s. Woojin worships him, and that’s enough information for Hyunjin to be the tip of the iceberg to Woojin’s Titanic.  _ He’s going to drown this boy once and for all. _

   Not without any good reasons, though. The other has been a great - almost wonderful - help in Hyunjin’s journey of torturing people he finds disgusting to death. Almost wonderful, if Woojin didn’t suddenly blurted out his inner school-bomber personality, a trait he admittedly got from his dear father; a person who runs a company based on blowing buildings up into pieces just for them to build another one in its place. A purification of the sort, Woojin told him one fine day. Almost wonderful if, Hyunjin goes along with it and think about it as a wonderful, much more simple answer to his sick and twisted self - but what’s the fun in blowing  _ everything  _ up when you can kill them one by one, hear them scream and twist as the life they once had drowned out from their eyes?

   So he pretended.

   To be scared, to have doubts, to be against killing everyone. He isn’t against it, per se, but once again - killing the whole high school to prevent Hyunjin from getting anymore prey he could lure into his den to start stabbing them away to their death? Hyunjin took great offense in this, and yes, in the moment; he is extremely mad at Woojin. He supposed he would just kill Woojin off without torturing him, but then again - that’s really not his style.

   It all started out as an all-too-lazy-day, though, with Woojin storming out of Hyunjin’s room after figuring out that the love of his life hung himself from defeat - the defeat that Hyunjin made him believe after a few hours of scripted and very predictable fight - and so, with the mission of delivering an-already-dead-Hyunjin’s revenge to an unforgiving school, Woojin got on his motorcycle to bomb the place up. To bits and pieces. No one will survive, and certainly not himself.

   He’d do anything to see Hyunjin again.

   Upon inflicting Woojin to that much pain, though, Hyunjin got off from his ‘staged suicide’ to prepare for the day, running through the lines he’s going to say to Woojin once he gets there and practices how desperate he’s supposed to look so that Woojin won’t question his priorities. “I need the world, back, Woojin! You took them away from me,” he pauses, looking at the mirror to check his facial expressions, “and I’m not going to let the world take  _ you  _ away, too.”

   Fair and square, Hyunjin would win. Woojin would drop anything and everything at all to come back into his arm, and although he could be cranky for a while since he really wanted to do this bombing thing - Hyunjin would coax him out of being mad by killing some other pricks at school; which will still exist. See? A win-win situation.

   “Who the fuck are you talking to, son?” Hyunjin’s mom barged into the room, a plate of cookies in one hand and milk in the other. This should’ve alarmed the young man, but knowing how slow-witted and not-trusting his mom is, he lets it be. She won’t even connect the dots when some big controversy happens, and therefore, Hyunjin is safe. “A line for the school drama thing, mom. No, you’re not invited,” he replies, chuckling slightly when he sees the disappointment cross the middle-aged-lady’s face. “Don’t be downhearted. I’m not given a big role at all, you won’t miss anything.”

   He doesn’t realize that an hour after that, he would be lying here - under Woojin, who is way more stubborn about the whole bombing situation than he thought.  _ Fuck this, I’m giving this way too much effort _ , Hyunjin had initially thought, while his head rings and he can hear his pulse from the way Woojin just shoved him into the gas pipe nearby. Hyunjin’s whole body aches, and not because he hasn’t fought before, but because Woojin has this drive to do what he’s supposed to do, and not even Hyunjin - who came back from the dead, in his eyes - will stop him.

   He actually believes that it’s the right thing to do.

_ This lunatic _ , Hyunjin thought, reaching over to retrieve the gun that was kicked all the way to the corner of the room while Woojin is busy hovering over the timed bomb, laughing at how he  _ knows _ what the other is thinking. “Babe,” Hyunjin calls out, voice mocking and only slightly laced in delight - which he’s still trying to cover. Wouldn’t want Woojin to know how excited he is to  _ kill  _ him. He can’t underestimate how crazy and experienced Woojin is either, but the latter is just too predictable sometimes.

   “What is it,  _ love _ ?”

   Came his reply, and for a moment - just a single, fleeting, moment - Hyunjin’s eyes opened wide, and there’s a tingle of contentment and the need to stay in his pulsing heart. There’s also the image he’s never seen before behind his eyelids, an image of the green grass and a white, pure house, with Woojin sitting right beside him on a bench not meant for more than two people - with little fluffy dogs all around him and a content smile on his face. Fuck.

   “Nothing,” Hyunjin mutters, the drive to kill inching down to an end. “Just. . . wanted to say goodbye.”

   Woojin quits whatever he was doing immediately, as quick as he can leaning down near his lover, laid down with his arms and legs spread everywhere, bruises littering his pretty skin. Not the kind of bruises Woojin loves, too, and he winces at the realization that he  _ did  _ that to Hyunjin. “Goodbye? Why goodbye?” he asks, voice softening when he notices Hyunjin’s eyes watering. 

   “Are you leaving me? Again?” 

   Hyunjin chuckles, the pressure of his laughter pains his slightly damaged ribs and it made the tears collected on the corners of his eyes drips down his cheeks. “No,” he decides on answer, finally, throwing away the gun he’s been hiding beneath his jacket - which shocks Woojin in the process, but his eyes went back to Hyunjin’s after a few moments of silence. “We should leave together this time?”

   Predictable.

   Sad, hopeless, desperate, predictable - and slightly in love.

   Of course, there were some moments of hesitation in Hyunjin’s life, since; he was barely seventeen at the time and he got addicted to something people shouldn’t have experienced in the first place, and it made him feel unstoppable. Which was dangerous, but Hyunjin didn’t realize how dangerous he was. Well, until right now, also known as something he likes to claim - redemption.

   It was out of nowhere, unpredictable - like his whole entire life and being, but he felt sorry. Hyunjin felt bad, and for the first time in forever, not to himself. To the fact that he dragged Woojin into this - even though he’s sure the other would bomb his own school without Hyunjin’s entanglement anyway - but he dragged Woojin all the way from being a guy who was numb inside into a guy who’s helplessly in love with him; and from the look of his eyes bearing into Hyunjin’s own, Woojin would even  _ die  _ for him.

   Dying for someone is a great deal, and not even once in Hyunjin’s life did he imagine that a day would come where someone would love him that much.

   And he’s been pretending the whole time.

   There’s no way Hyunjin could ignore the beeping from the time bomb escalating faster and faster behind the moment he and Woojin is sharing, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Hwang Hyunjin, almost torn away in all shapes and sizes from fighting his lover, who is now laying in said lover’s arms - letting whatever Woojin’s plan was to work in his favour. And maybe, who knows?

   Maybe God would witness his very, very,  _ very  _ late redemption and gave Woojin a place beside Him, up there? Maybe, with. . . dogs, and. . .

   And a very nice family?

**Author's Note:**

> HAHA AND IT TOOK ME A WHOLE MONTH TO FINISH THAT WHY DO I PROCRASTINATE-
> 
> i'm kidding, it wasn't a whole month. it sure was a long time, tho.


End file.
